


Bendy and the Ink Machine snapshots

by maleficentWatermelon



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 20:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18017963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maleficentWatermelon/pseuds/maleficentWatermelon
Summary: maybe this will be more active than my portal version yikes,,,, i totally forgot about that





	Bendy and the Ink Machine snapshots

**Author's Note:**

> right this is shitty but im just trying to get into the world man

You skirt the still wet, bare footprints on the floor, the fresh sounds of the Machine humming almost comforting as you round the final corner to the Machine room. Fear runs her frigid finger over the back of your neck, then. You are very certain that the haphazard boards nailed over the door are a new addition.  
Despite your… apprehension, it is said that curiosity killed the cat. You peer over the board that comes up to your chin, reaching out your fingers to curl around the second board. There isn’t much to see, there. Just the Ink Machine, thrumming along like it’d been doing that the whole time.  
Somewhat paradoxically, you register the change in your pulse before the abrupt visitor to your limited field of view, a visitor with the top half of its charitably named face obscured entirely by thick black liquid, no, ink. Because of course it’s ink. Because if the leering, nightmare fuel toothy grin wasn’t enough to make you stumble back, the shove to the chest from its hands are enough to upset your balance. Then you’re falling, for eternity it seems, dark and so very cold blotches of ink spreading on your clean clothes from its (mismatched!) hands.  
Miraculously, your breath is still with you when you hit the floor, and you know you’re up again in maybe a second even if it feels like a hundred years between when the throbbing thunk travels through your back half and when you’re on the feet. By the time the overpowering monologue of “What the fuck” has faded, you’re almost to the exist, heart thudding, breath stinging. Ink the color of and consistency of tar oozes, pours, rains from all around you even as you stretch your arm out for the knob, while your foot twists and goes through the floor.  
Laying flat on your back as everything goes quiet is useless as far as survival goes, but it is the perfect breeding grounds for epiphanies.  
You are the visitor here. Clearly, this is not the studio you left those long years ago.  
Second, just a few moments after the first, a second realization drives through your head like lightning.  
Bendy?


End file.
